


better than you had it

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Exes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The annual Courfeyrac family reunion rolls around. Combeferre goes with him, as usual, but it would be much easier if not for the fact that this time, they’re pretending they’re still together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	better than you had it

**Author's Note:**

> Both Courfeyrac and Combeferre are referred to by first name in dialogue by Courfeyrac's family, but outside of that, they call each other by last name so it doesn't get confusing.
> 
> Fanmix by floofbucket can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/syllahound/who-will-be-strong-and-stand-with-me)!

"I hate family gatherings," Amy announces over the phone, the Monday before their annual reunion.

Courfeyrac laughs at his little sister, soft and fond. "No you don't. You count down to them."

"Not this time," Amy mumbles. "I'm kind of dreading it, to be honest."

Courfeyrac makes a sympathetic noise. "Is this because of Kavita?"

Amy sighs heavily. "Yeah. She's great and I know you'll all love her… I'm just nervous about what Grand-mère Justine will say. I don't think she likes me as it is, and I don't think she'll be happy with the fact that _three_ out of her four grandchildren ended up queer as fuck. You know how she is about wanting great-grandkids."

Courfeyrac snorts, sitting down on the couch. "I'm pretty sure Franky has that covered. What's the bet she's going to have twins again?"

"Oh my god, Seb. Don't even joke about that, I'm pretty sure she'll cry. Tara and Michael are already a handful. Two handfuls." Amy sighs again, clearly not distracted enough to forget her concerns. "I mean, everyone already knows I like girls, but bringing my girlfriend home to meet the family is just… different, you know?"

"Trust me, I know," Courfeyrac tells her. "But hey, Grand-mère was pretty good when it came to me."

"I suppose you're right. I'm glad that you and Combeferre are going to be there. That's going to make everything a lot easier. Grand-mère adores the two of you. I think she likes Combeferre better than she likes Mattheu and _he's_ given her grandchildren with Franky."

Courfeyrac's heart sinks. "…Um."

"Um?" Amy echoes. "That doesn't sound like a good _um_. Seb?"

"Um." Courfeyrac clears his throat. "Combeferre isn't coming." 

"What?" Amy asks. "What's going on? Are you guys fighting?" 

Courfeyrac rubs a hand over his face, doing his very best to ignore the way his chest is hurting. "We're not fighting. We… uh, we broke up."

" _What_?" Amy shrieks, sounding frantic. "Shit, why didn't you tell me? Are you okay? When did this happen?"

"Look, it's fine," Courfeyrac tells her. "Seriously. I'm fine. It's been nearly two months now."

"Sebastien, stop fucking with me," his sister demands. "This isn't funny."

"I know," he replies softly. "I'm sorry. You're right, it would have been a lot easier to win Grand-mère over if Combeferre was there."

"It's fine. Seriously, Seb. It's not even important. I'll just tell Kavita he's not going to be there after all. What happened?"

"You told your girlfriend that Combeferre would be there?" Courfeyrac asks, ignoring the rest.

"Yeah, I did. I'm sorry, she was freaking out and I told her she didn't have to worry because my big brother was bringing his boyfriend and—"

"Fuck," Courfeyrac breathes. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you sooner. Is she going to be okay? Look—if it makes things any easier, I can ask Combeferre to come with me. He adores you anyway, he'll do it if it makes you and Kavita feel better."

"You're going to pretend you're still together?" Amy asks. "For me? Does anyone else know that you've broken up?"

"I haven't told anybody," Courfeyrac replies. "I mean, obviously, our friends know. But nobody at home."

"Not even Claire?"

"I haven't told anybody, Amandine," Courfeyrac rubs his hand over his face. "We're going to keep it that way for the weekend. I'll make sure Combeferre gets Grand-mère in a good mood, and then you can introduce Kavita to her. I mean, I'll have to check with him first. I'll let you know what he says. I don't think he'll say no."

"Are you sure?" Amy asks, but knows better than to wait for him to actually respond. "Thank you so much, you're my favourite brother in the whole world."

Courfeyrac snorts quietly. "I'm your only brother, you dork. Say hi to Kavita for me. Tell her I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"I will. Say hi to Combeferre for me. I'm sorry you broke up."

"Yeah," Courfeyrac murmurs. "Me too. I'll text you to let you know once he says yes, okay? I'll see you on the weekend. Love you."

"See you on the weekend," Amy echoes. "Love you too."

Courfeyrac hangs up and sits back on the couch, shutting his eyes and sighing heavily. Two months since he and Combeferre made the mutual decision to go back to being friends instead of forcing their relationship to work, and it hurts just as much now as it did before. He's an idiot for ever believing that it wouldn't be utterly heart-breaking, but he knows that given the choice between keeping Combeferre as one of his best friends or dating him until their relationship completely falls apart, the second one isn't even an option. 

They were together for too long, and they'd changed too much over the years. Courfeyrac had always thought he was good at adapting when he needed to, but the more they began to argue, the more he began to doubt that.

He's still on the couch when Combeferre gets home. Courfeyrac's mind is a mess of loud thoughts, but he opens his eyes and smiles as Combeferre shuts the door and toes his shoes off before crossing the room and sitting down beside him. Back when they'd first moved into this apartment together, the couch had seemed a decent enough size. But, the past two months of dancing around each other and maintaining a careful distance at all times has made the couch feel much too small. The entire apartment feels too small and too big at the same time. 

Every single one of their friends has an opinion about the fact that Combeferre and Courfeyrac are still living together. Most of them have, at the very least, refrained from insisting that Courfeyrac _hears_ their opinion, but he can see it in their eyes anyway. He sees it whenever he and Combeferre have their arms around each other, enjoying the rare moments where they can be fond with each other without having to worry that it's coming across as anything other than platonic. It's as if they're watching and waiting for it to fall apart, for Combeferre and Courfeyrac to realise that they can't do this when they're in such close proximity. Then again, that might just be Courfeyrac projecting his own fears. 

"Something's wrong," Combeferre murmurs, watching him, but doesn't press for an explanation. 

Courfeyrac is silent for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He takes a deep breath. "I was just on the phone with my sister."

"Claire?"

Courfeyrac shakes his head. "Amy."

"Is this about your family's annual reunion?"

Courfeyrac blinks at him, and Combeferre huffs quietly.

"Please, Courfeyrac. It's the same weekend every year. Did you think I'd forget because you didn't mention it?"

"Of course not," Courfeyrac mutters, feeling like an idiot. 

"Though I guess I'm not really going with you this year," Combeferre says with a smile that looks forced.

"Well," Courfeyrac grimaces. "That's what I was talking to Amy about."

"…Oh?"

"Amy's bringing her girlfriend home to meet the family," Courfeyrac begins. "You know, the one she started seeing a few months ago?"

"Kavita," Combeferre says, nodding, because of course he remembers her name. "So things are working out for them? That's great."

"They're both really nervous, because of Grand-mère Justine."

"Understandable," Combeferre replies slowly, clearly waiting to see where this is going.

"Amy told Kavita that they didn't need to worry, because I was bringing you."

Combeferre's eyes go wide. "Oh."

"I'm pretty sure Grand-mère Justine likes you more than she likes me," Courfeyrac tells him. "So, you know, when I told Amy about… us… just then, she was a little worried."

"You _just_ told her?" Combeferre asks, raising an eyebrow. "Just then? Even though it's been—it's nearly been two months since we…"

"Have you told your family?" Courfeyrac asks, half-dreading the answer.

"So what are Amy and Kavita going to do now?" Combeferre says, and it might be the most obvious change of subject Courfeyrac has ever seen, but he's more than happy to let it slide.

"That depends," Courfeyrac replies carefully, "on what you want to do."

"Me?" Combeferre frowns.

"We can go to the reunion. Together. We'll just… I don't know, neglect to mention the fact that we're…"

"It's just a weekend," Combeferre says quietly. "I mean, if it helps Amy and Kavita, then I'll be happy to do it."

"That's what I told her. Besides, she'll be happy to see you again. Everyone will."

"Even Claire?" Combeferre asks, and Courfeyrac knows that the question he's really asking is very different.

"She'll be happy to see you," Courfeyrac replies. 

Combeferre nods. "Alright. We'll do it. I guess it won't be too different to the last few years anyway, right?"

"Right." Courfeyrac smiles, relieved when Combeferre returns it. "We can do this. It's going to be easy." 

Combeferre bumps their shoulders together, carefully moving back to his side of the couch afterwards. "Yeah. Of course."

:·:

The drive to the Courfeyrac family mansion takes just under two hours. With Combeferre driving, it usually takes them closer to an hour and a half.

"So you've told your family I'm coming?" Combeferre asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

Courfeyrac hums in reply, leaning back in his seat and looking out of his window. 

Combeferre sighs quietly. "You didn't have to tell them, did you? They assumed I was coming."

"You've always been there," Courfeyrac says softly. "For the last ten years."

"Don't do this, Courfeyrac." Combeferre, when Courfeyrac glances at him, is gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He looks desperately upset and Courfeyrac hates it, hates knowing that it's his fault— _both_ their faults. "Please don't pretend that this decision was mine, and mine alone."

"I'm not," Courfeyrac replies. 

"You're upset," Combeferre murmurs. "And it feels like it's my fault."

"Well," Courfeyrac smiles. "It's my fault too. I wish this worked out, Combeferre, I really do. But you're one of my best friends in the world, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Combeferre smiles at that, looking over at Courfeyrac when they're stopped at a traffic light. "Neither would I."

The rest of the drive passes without the discomfort that had been hanging in the air for the majority of the week. Courfeyrac relaxes into his seat, putting his usual road trip playlist on and grinning when Combeferre groans. As much as he might complain about Courfeyrac's choice in music, they both know he likes it. They end up singing along to all of the songs and it's almost enough to distract Courfeyrac from the way Combeferre remembers the directions to the mansion without needing to ask even once. 

He hasn't been here except for the requisite family gatherings since he first moved out and it's not that Courfeyrac hates his family home, because that is definitely not the case. He has fond memories of the place and he feels happy the moment they turn down the long street that leads to the mansion. It's just that the giant gate and the winding driveway always serves as a reminder that Courfeyrac comes from a much more privileged background than most people he knows, and fills him with the desire to make sure he does everything he can to use it in order to help others.

"It looks like Claire's here already," Combeferre comments, parking beside her bright blue beetle. "Nobody else, though, except your parents and Grand-mère Justine?"

"The others will be here soon enough, I think." Courfeyrac replies, getting out of the car and collecting their overnight bags from the trunk. Combeferre comes around to take his bag from Courfeyrac, hesitating before he takes Courfeyrac's free hand into his own. 

"We can do this," Combeferre murmurs, and Courfeyrac isn't sure which one of them he's talking to. Perhaps both. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are," Courfeyrac replies, and they walk towards the door.

Claire greets them as soon as they get inside, like she's been waiting there for them. She throws her arms around Courfeyrac with enough force to make him let go of Combeferre's hand and drop his bag, so he can hug her in return. 

"Hey little brother!"

" _I'm five minutes older_ ," he protests, the way he always does. It never makes a difference, but that's not going to stop Courfeyrac. He kisses her cheek. "How's my little sister?"

"Wouldn't know, Amy's not here yet." Claire smirks at him before turning her attention to Combeferre, hugging him just as tightly. "Henri! I haven't seen you since Christmas, what's up with that? I can't believe you're _still_ putting up with Seb. You must have the patience of a saint."

Combeferre's gaze flicks over to Courfeyrac for a brief moment before he laughs it off. Claire pretends not to notice, but Courfeyrac knows his twin better than that. His heart sinks, but then he doesn't have very long to think about it because his parents join them at the entrance, along with Grand-mère Justine, who beams when she sees Combeferre, competing with Courfeyrac's mother to be the first to hug him in greeting. 

"You both get Courfeyrac's room, as usual," Claire speaks up, once the greetings are done, her gaze feeling like a physical weight. "Come on, you two, I'll walk you up."

Courfeyrac grabs his bag, carefully trying not to look at Combeferre on the way up the stairs, because it hadn't even occurred to him that they would be sharing his room, just as they have for every single visit, every year. He listens to Claire telling them both about her fashion design course and the party she'd been to the night before, letting it drown out all the irritation he feels towards himself. He doubts that Claire has decided to start sharing stories purely by chance.

They put their bags down in Courfeyrac's room and Combeferre clears his throat, looking at Courfeyrac warily.

Claire speaks up before Combeferre can. "Hey, do you mind if I steal Seb for a bit? Phone calls are one thing, but I haven't actually seen him for a while."

"Of course not." Combeferre smiles at them both. "I'll see you downstairs."

Claire waits until they hear Combeferre go down the stairs, then goes to the door and shuts it before turning on Courfeyrac. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Do you mean in general, or…"

"With Henri," she clarifies. "Between you and Henri. Are you guys okay?"

Courfeyrac laughs hollowly and sits down on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him.

"I really don't like where this is going," Claire says, frowning, but goes over to sit beside Courfeyrac anyway.

"Yeah. To be entirely honest, I don't like it very much either." He links his arm with his sister and sighs heavily. "Shit, I don't know how to say this. I've tried telling you before, okay, but I can't—I can't actually say the words. This is so fucking pathetic. Telling you makes it _real_ and I…"

"You and Henri…" Claire says, slowly, quietly, her voice filled with dread. "You're not together any more, are you?"

Courfeyrac shakes his head mutely, and is grateful for the way Claire hugs him as tightly as she possibly can.

"Oh, Seb." Claire wraps her arms around him. "Oh no. How did he do it? I mean, you're still friends, so at least that's good."

"He didn't make the decision himself, it was mutual." Courfeyrac sighs, running his hand through his hair. "We've been together for so long and we—loved each other so much… but fuck, we've been dating since we were _fifteen_. A lot changes in that time."

"But you still love him," Claire argues. "You change _together_. I've seen you do it over the years."

"I don't know, maybe we're not doing it _enough_ any more. We kept fighting about all these little things, just getting on each other's nerves, you know? And we _never_ had those huge world-ending fights—except I could see us getting there, and it was horrible. Terrifying."

"So, what, you gave up before you got there?" Claire asks. "That's not good enough, Seb. You aren't the kind of person to let _anything_ scare you away from what you want."

"Yeah, well, nothing scares me as much as the thought of losing him forever. I can deal with this, if it means that I get to keep him in my life." Courfeyrac takes a deep breath and smiles at his sister. "I hate it, Claire. It hurts so much, but it's better than the alternative."

Claire frowns, but hugs him tightly again. "I'm sorry. I can't believe this happened. I wish it didn't."

Courfeyrac laughs softly. "Yeah. Me too."

"You keep giving me updates on how he's doing whenever I call. He was always around, from what I could tell." Claire says slowly. "If you tell me that you're still living together, I'm going to sit you down and go through what _breaking up_ means."

"I'm already sitting down," Courfeyrac points out. "Look, we don't sleep in the same bed any more. I moved into the spare room, and we're—careful with each other. We give each other space. We figured that even if we weren't dating, we'd be living together. Besides, it's not like we're going to kick each other out." 

Claire buries her face in her hands. "Oh, Sebastien."

"I know," he says quietly. " _I know_ , because I've heard it from most of my friends already, okay? But this way, we still see each other, we still talk, we don't avoid each other. We're still friends and I— _we_ need that."

"You told your friends, but you didn't tell me?" 

"I didn't have much of a choice," Courfeyrac says apologetically. "I mean, it was kind of obvious."

"But nobody else knows?" Claire asks. "Our entire family still thinks you're together?"

"Amy knows," Courfeyrac admits.

Claire hits his shoulder. "You told _Amy_ and you didn't tell me?"

"I had to, she asked if Combeferre was coming because she's bringing Kavita, and you know what Grand-mère Justine is like. If it wasn't for Amy asking…"

"…Henri wouldn't have come at all," Claire finishes quietly. "Fuck, Seb, I don't even know how to feel about this."

"Well, that makes the two of us." Courfeyrac gets to his feet, brushing the conversation off as he stands and offers her a hand. "Come on, little sis. We'd better get back to it. We'll be fine. We'll survive."

Claire stands, not looking particularly convinced. Courfeyrac feels the exact same way.

:·:

Lunch time is the chaotic event that it always is when Courfeyrac's family is gathered in one place. His uncle Emile has arrived, and they all sit around the table, talking over each other, laughing loudly, never quite managing to finish one conversation before another one begins. It's loud and wonderful and Courfeyrac absolutely loves it. He loves his family more than anything and a small, selfish part of him is glad that he can still have Combeferre here with him. He tries not to think about the fact that this is most likely the _last_ time Combeferre will be with him.

Combeferre clearly looks like he wants to talk to Courfeyrac, but he doesn't quite get the chance to, despite the fact that they're sitting right next to each other. Between Courfeyrac's mother and Grand-mère Justine, Combeferre doesn't have much time to focus on anybody else. Claire sits on Courfeyrac's other side, keeping an eye on him even though he's tried telling her that she really doesn't have to. 

It's not until they've all finished eating and Courfeyrac is helping clear away the dishes that Combeferre finally has the chance to speak with him. 

"I'll help you," Combeferre murmurs, even though he'd already helped clear away the pots of food. He starts stacking the plates, waiting until they've all been carried to the kitchen sink before turning to Courfeyrac. "Can we…?"

"Talk?" Courfeyrac suggests, giving Combeferre a small smile that hopefully doesn't look as forced as it feels. "Yeah, sure."

"You and Claire…" Combeferre pauses, evidently not sure how he wants to pose his question. "You were talking for quite a while, after I left."

"She had a lot of questions," Courfeyrac replies, shrugging casually. "We had a lot of catching up to do." 

"Courfeyrac…" Combeferre says, his eyes going wide. "Don't tell me…"

"I'm not saying anything."

Combeferre takes hold of Courfeyrac's arm, looking at him closely. "She didn't know, did she?"

"I told you," Courfeyrac replies. "None of my family knew. Not until Amy called me."

"But _Claire_ …" Combeferre shakes his head. "She's your twin sister, Courfeyrac. You didn't tell her?"

Courfeyrac presses his lips together into a thin line and luckily, he's saved from having to answer by the sound of another car pulling up outside. "Oh, that must be Francine and her family. Come on, let's go and say hi." 

Combeferre looks frustrated, but says nothing as he follows Courfeyrac out to the entrance, where everyone else is already gathered. 

Francine is three months pregnant and looks radiant as she gets out of the car, beaming at them. Her husband Mattheu hangs back, taking their bags out and opening the passenger doors for their two five year old children. 

"Uncle Henri!" they yell in unison, the moment they see Combeferre. 

"Hey, you two." Combeferre smiles at them fondly, kneeling down as they run over to him. 

"Look!" Tara smiles at him widely to show off her teeth, and the gaps in between. "I'm getting big teeth soon!"

"Yeah, me too, me too!" Michael does the same, jostling with Tara so that Combeferre can see. "Hey, Uncle Henri, are you going to dig for bugs with us again like last year?" 

"Yeah! Mama told us that if we find something, we can put it in a jar with holes in the lid! We even brought spades!"

"That sounds wonderful," Combeferre replies, beaming at them.

Courfeyrac's heart aches as he watches them, and Claire comes up beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist. 

"I'm okay," he tells her automatically.

"I'm sure you are," she replies, clearly not buying it. "Come on, let's go say hi to Franky while Combeferre's distracting the kids."

The first thing Franky does when she sees Courfeyrac is to hug him and say, "Give your boyfriend my apologies in advance for the kids. They've been looking forward to seeing him the entire way here." 

Courfeyrac laughs. "And here I thought that being your only brother would mean I wouldn't have any competition for the title of favourite uncle. I guess that if I had to lose to someone, at least I'm losing to him."

It doesn't occur to him to feel sad about that until Claire puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. As his sisters talk, he watches Combeferre, who is still kneeling on the ground and completely engrossed in the conversation he's having with the twins. They're probably talking about bugs, considering how excited all three of them look, and Combeferre's smile is still the most beautiful thing Courfeyrac has ever seen.

"Look at you," Franky says, nudging him with a grin. "Do you even realise the fact that you're just gazing adoringly at him? You're so in love with him, it isn't even funny."

"So how's work?" Claire speaks up, buying Courfeyrac enough time to recover, to tear his gaze from Combeferre and join their conversation. "What's it like opening up your own law firm?"

Franky laughs. "Stressful, but good. I'm glad I did it."

When they were younger, Franky had been Courfeyrac's inspiration for going to law school. Enjolras has met her once, and between her name and her career, he holds her in the highest esteem. At first, Courfeyrac had thought it would be difficult to keep from comparing his career to hers, but they've chosen completely different fields of law to pursue. Their shared knowledge gives them plenty to talk about, without making Courfeyrac feel like he isn't getting anywhere compared to her success. 

They're in the middle of discussing a trial that Franky's just finished when Combeferre comes wandering over, carrying both Tara and Michael with one on each hip.

"Hello," he smiles at Franky and Mattheu. "Your children wanted their mother, but I think they were too lazy to walk."

"We've already talked about how they're big enough to walk by themselves now," Mattheu says sternly, but his expression softens into a smile. "They're just very excited to see you, Henri. They've been looking forward to it for weeks."

"Alright, how about a hello for your second favourite uncle?" Courfeyrac asks, taking Tara from Combeferre and bouncing her gently. "I hope you remember me too."

Tara giggles, throwing her arms around Courfeyrac and hugging him tightly. "You're being silly."

"Hey, me too!" Michael calls, wriggling in Combeferre's arms. "I want to hug Uncle Seb!"

"I'll swap you," Combeferre says with a fond smile that Courfeyrac needs to remind himself is directed at the children, not him. "Here you go."

Claire takes Tara, standing beside Courfeyrac. He subtly shakes his head when he notices her watching him. He doesn't want to talk about it now—he preferably doesn't want to talk about it at all, but he knows that he's not going to be that lucky.

When everybody moves into the house and the children are taken upstairs for their nap time, Claire stops Courfeyrac with her hand on his wrist. 

"Does Combeferre know?"

"What?" Courfeyrac asks, reluctantly turning to her.

"Does he know that you're still in love with him? Does he know that you don't want to be broken up with him?" Claire frowns at him and sighs heavily. "Seb, I love you a lot, but you're an idiot. _Mutual_ break ups don't end up hurting just one person. Combeferre doesn't look half as hurt by all of this as you do."

"You and I both know just how good his poker face is," Courfeyrac replies. "Look, Claire, thank you for your concern, I really _do_ appreciate it, but I'm not going to let you blame him for this. I'm sad, yes, but so is he. Neither of us wanted this to happen, it just did."

"Does he still love you?" Claire asks.

Courfeyrac shakes his head. "Let's go inside, Claire."

"Damn it, Sebastien, _does he still love you_? Because hell if I'm letting my brother pine over a guy who doesn't care as much in return."

"I think so. I don't know." Courfeyrac pinches the bridge of his nose. "I really don't want to talk about this right now. I just want to get through this weekend and if you've got any questions, we'll deal with them later. Okay?"

"Not okay," Claire replies, but she lets go of Courfeyrac's hand. "None of this is remotely okay."

"Yeah," Courfeyrac replies. "Trust me. I know."

:·:

Amy and Kavita are due to arrive an hour before dinner. As they wait, Courfeyrac and the others take over the upstairs rumpus room, as they always do when they're home. Combeferre takes the window seat with a book, his shoulder pressed to the glass long after the sun has set. Franky and Mattheu are sitting down with their children, playing a game that must have been of the twins' own creation, because Courfeyrac can barely understand the rules.

He and Claire set up their Playstation and take great care not to swear at each other as they play their way through all of the fighting games in their collection. Claire is frustratingly good at all of their games and this is the point where Courfeyrac would call Combeferre over for back-up, if not for the fact that he doesn't really want to disturb Combeferre at all. It's bad enough that Courfeyrac has dragged him all the way here. Even if he is familiar with everyone, Courfeyrac figures that he definitely deserves his alone time. 

"Oh, this must be so embarrassing for you," Claire hoots as she wins yet another round. She smirks at Courfeyrac. "You've been playing against me for years and you still come second. Poor you." 

"I've beaten you before," Courfeyrac mutters, picking a different character so they can have another rematch. 

"Yeah, enough times to count on one hand," Claire replies. "Over how many years?"

Courfeyrac growls and keeps his mouth shut.

"I've beaten you enough to make up for it, though," Combeferre speaks up. They both turn to him and he puts his book down, crossing the room and sitting on the floor, beside Courfeyrac. "Give me a go?"

Claire grins widely. "Finally, a _challenge_."

"Beat her for me," Courfeyrac mutters, handing his controller over. 

Combeferre winks at him in reply. Courfeyrac's heart flutters, but before he can say anything, they hear a car outside.

"It's Aunty Amy!" Tara yells, getting to her feet along with Michael, their game immediately forgotten.

"Don't _run_ ," Franky calls after them and swears under her breath as the children leave the room. "Mattheu—"

"On it," he replies, getting up and running after them.

"I'm going to beat you downstairs," Claire says to Courfeyrac, getting to her feet.

"No you won't." Courfeyrac breaks into a run, chasing Claire to the stairs. 

They shove each other, laughing as they try to get down the stairs first. Claire breaks free and Courfeyrac is about to grab for her again when he overbalances.

"Oh sh—"

" _Sebastien_!" Combeferre's hands are around his waist in an instant, pulling him backwards to help him regain his balance. 

"Wow." Courfeyrac rests his head back against Combeferre's chest as he gives himself a moment to remember how to breathe. "Thank you."

"You idiot," Combeferre scolds, standing on the step below Courfeyrac so they're eye to eye. "You know better than to run down the stairs. Jesus, Sebastien, you were going to fall and I was _terrified_ —"

"Well, I didn't," Courfeyrac replies, placing a hand on Combeferre's cheek with a small smile before remembering himself and snatching it back. Combeferre's face colours and Courfeyrac clears his throat, looking away. "Anyway, we should really go downstairs and…"

"Right," Combeferre replies, and they walk the rest of the way downstairs. 

Claire has Amy in a tight hug at the door, while Tara and Michael bounce excitedly to the side. Behind her, Courfeyrac can see a girl with dark skin and a nervous look on her face, looking reluctant to walk in. 

"Amy," Courfeyrac calls out, grinning as his youngest sister looks up, beaming. "Claire is clearly being rude and not letting you come in. Bring Kavita in too." 

Amy looks behind her and reaches her hand out, squeezing Kavita's fingers gently before leading her inside. Amy smiles nervously as she looks around at her siblings. "This is Kavita. My girlfriend."

"It's great to finally meet you!" Claire says, smiling at Kavita as they shake hands. "I'm Claire."

"This is Sebastien," Amy says, indicating Courfeyrac. "And that's his—boyfriend, Henri."

"Hi." Kavita smiles at him nervously, her gaze flicking over to Combeferre. She gives him an apologetic look, like this entire situation is her fault. Courfeyrac makes a mental note to sit her down later and explain that this is definitely not the case.

"This is Mattheu, my brother-in-law, and my niece and nephew, Tara and Michael."

"One at a time, children, please," Mattheu says, doing his best to stop the twins from clambering all over Amy to greet her. 

"Oh, they're so cute," Kavita coos. "Hello!"

"Hi!" Tara says, offering her hand. "I'm Tara and this is my little brother, Michael."

"I'm not your _little brother_ ," Michael protests, shoving at Tara.

"Are too!" Tara replies. "Seven whole minutes!"

"Oh god," Amy groans, even though she's laughing. "It's Claire and Seb all over again. I bet Franky's pleased. Where is she, anyway?"

"On her way down," Mattheu tells them, just as she finishes descending the stairs.

"The only one who didn't run down to greet us," Amy says. "I see how it is."

"Combeferre didn't run either," Courfeyrac points out, and Franky laughs loudly.

"Sweetie, your boyfriend _lunged_ after you, like he was saving you from certain death. I'd give you suggestions on how to thank him, but my children are notoriously good at hearing things they shouldn't." 

Combeferre clears his throat, looking embarrassed and Courfeyrac looks away, catching Amy's eye. He doesn't know how many apologetic smiles he's going to have to deal with over the weekend, but they only make him feel worse.

"We'll walk you up to your room," Claire speaks up, indicating Courfeyrac and herself. "So you can put your bags away before the adults show up."

"You're all over twenty-one," Franky points out, laughing at them.

"The _real_ adults," Courfeyrac explains, linking his arm with Amy and turning her towards the stairs.

Tara and Michael immediately turn their attention to Combeferre, clambering all over him again while Mattheu apologises. Courfeyrac glances over his shoulder, but Combeferre doesn't turn to look at him. Amy tugs on his arm and Courfeyrac turns back to her with a sigh, clenching his hands into fists when he notices that both she and Claire are watching him with sad looks.

"Come on," he says, walking past them.

Amy waits until they’re upstairs in her room before she speaks. "Sebastien…" 

"Don't," he says, shaking his head. "I don't want you feeling sorry for me, okay? That's just going to make me feel sorry for myself too, and I don't want that right now. I just want to enjoy spending the weekend back home with you guys. And hey, Kavita, I'm really glad that Amy brought you."

Kavita blushes slightly and Courfeyrac's lips tug into a semblance of a genuine smile. He can already see how happy Amy and Kavita are together, and that's all Courfeyrac needs for this weekend to be worth it.

"Is Grand-mère Justine here?" Amy asks reluctantly, as she and Kavita put their bags down.

"Yeah, she is. But don't worry about it, okay? Everything's going to be fine. Promise."

Of course, when they get back downstairs, Grand-mère Justine is there, waiting with their parents. 

"Who is this?" she demands, folding her arms across her chest as she looks at Kavita.

"This is Kavita, Grand-mère," Amy speaks up. She's holding Kavita's hand and Courfeyrac is glad when he sees that she grips it tighter, rather than letting go. "My girlfriend."

" _Girlfriend_?" comes the disbelieving reply. "Amandine, what makes you think—"

"Grand-mère Justine," Combeferre speaks up, walking into the room carrying Tara, completely casual if not for the brief glance he throws in Courfeyrac's direction. "I was telling Tara stories, but I just can't get the one about the fluffy kitten right, the way you do. Tara and I were wondering if you'd remind us how it goes?"

Grand-mère Justine's stern expression immediately melts into a fond smile and she places a hand on Combeferre's elbow, to lead him to the sitting room. Before she goes, she turns back to Amy. "I hope your girlfriend is as kind as dear Henri is."

As soon as they're out of the room, Kavita deflates. Amy turns to her with a small smile, but before she can say anything, Courfeyrac's mother speaks up. 

"Don't you worry about my mother. She'll calm down. Henri will sort her out, won't he, Sebastien?"

Courfeyrac smiles. "He _is_ Grand-mère's favourite. He'll work his magic."

"Justine hated Henri when she first met him too," Courfeyrac's father confides. "They've come a long way since then. She'll warm up to you much faster than she did with him, I suspect."

Courfeyrac has to bite back his smile at that. It took Combeferre a good three years of dating Courfeyrac before Grand-mère Justine even acknowledged the fact that they were in a relationship. As soon as she actually began _speaking_ to Combeferre, she was utterly charmed.

"I told you that everything would be fine," Courfeyrac tells them, squeezing Amy's shoulder, then Kavita's. "We just need to leave them be for a while. You'll see."

:·:

Dinner is at a restaurant nearby, so regularly frequented by the Courfeyrac family that the staff recognise all of them on sight, regardless of the fact that most of them haven't been here since the previous family gathering. Combeferre is greeted with exactly the same familiarity, as is Mattheu, and the owner shakes hands with Kavita, greeting her warmly.

Courfeyrac is hanging back to keep an eye on Amy and Kavita, with Claire by his side. They've made the unspoken agreement to make sure that Kavita feels welcome with their family, and Combeferre must have made the same decision too, because he stays close to Grand-mère Justine. They talk, glancing over at Amy and Kavita every now and then. Courfeyrac can tell that it's making his little sister uncomfortable, but he also notices the faint smile as Grand-mère Justine turns away. Whatever Combeferre is doing, it's clearly working.

Kavita, for her part, is friendly and intelligent and hilarious. She has a sharp wit and Courfeyrac keeps coming back to the fact that Combeferre would probably get along with her incredibly well, if they ever had a reason to see each other again. She's a good match for Amy and they tease each other throughout dinner, laughing together, gradually relaxing around the rest of the family.

"You should see Kavita's designs, though," Amy gushes to them as they eat dessert. "She kept getting the best marks on all of our assignments and I couldn't even hate her for it because she was such a lovely person."

" _Man_ , do I know that feeling," Courfeyrac laughs. "Back when we were in high school, it was always Combeferre at the top of the class and if I didn't love him so much—"

He cuts himself off, registering the way Combeferre turns to look at him. Courfeyrac laughs, shrugging it off and pretending that he's just fine. 

"You were better at all the social sciences," Combeferre murmurs, bumping their shoulders together. "You were better than me at history and I was incredibly jealous."

"Oh, that's right." Courfeyrac grins. 

"Please," Claire scoffs. "Let's not forget how I kicked _both_ your arses at art and languages."

The three of them laugh loudly and for a moment, everything feels normal. Combeferre is smiling warmly, Claire is looking pleased with herself and Courfeyrac wishes he could bottle this feeling, to keep it forever.

The entire family sits there for hours, talking and laughing over drinks until Michael and Tara start getting sleepy and irritable. They walk home in a large group, Combeferre carrying Michael as Mattheu carries Tara. Grand-mère Justine walks with Amy and Kavita, speaking to them as they walk, a soft smile on her face. Courfeyrac and Claire give them space, keeping an eye on them just in a case.

When they get inside, Amy flashes them a quick thumbs-up, and that's all they need to know. Combeferre is helping put the twins to bed and Courfeyrac finds him once he's finished up.

"Hey." Courfeyrac touches Combeferre's arm, making him stop. 

"Hi." Combeferre turns to him, smiling cautiously, like he's not even sure that he should. Courfeyrac's grip on his arm tightens. "…Courfeyrac? Is everything alright?"

"Thank you," Courfeyrac says. "For whatever you said to Grand-mère Justine. It worked."

Combeferre's smile grows. "I outright lied to her, pretended like I've met Kavita before. From everything you've told me about her since she started dating Amy, it wasn't actually that difficult."

Courfeyrac laughs. "You're amazing."

"It was nothing," Combeferre replies with a small shrug.

"No, really, Combeferre. It's thanks to you that my baby sister and her girlfriend aren't sick with dread and discomfort right now. Thank you."

Before Courfeyrac can second-guess himself, he stands on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Combeferre's cheek. Combeferre's expression softens, his arms coming around Courfeyrac to pull him close. In return, Courfeyrac clings to him tightly, and that's how Claire finds them.

Combeferre pulls away so suddenly that Courfeyrac is left reeling. Claire looks at them carefully and Courfeyrac can't stand the hope in her eyes so he shakes his head and clears his throat, looking at her with a smile.

"Hey, little sister. What's up?"

Claire presses her lips together in a thin line, making no attempt to hide her disappointment.

"Excuse me," Combeferre says quietly, stepping away. "I think I'll continue reading my book."

Courfeyrac wants to stop him, but doesn't know what to say, and isn't quite sure that Combeferre would stop anyway. They watch him go, and Claire turns back to him.

"Did I interrupt something I shouldn't have?"

"I don't know," Courfeyrac sighs. "No. Probably not."

"We're playing video games until we can't keep our eyes open," Claire decides, taking Courfeyrac's hand. "And I might even be nice enough to let you beat me."

Courfeyrac snorts quietly. "I appreciate that."

Settling on the beanbag in front of the television in Claire's room, they pick a game they can play in co-op mode over something where they have to play against each other. It keeps Courfeyrac distracted enough that he doesn't dwell on Combeferre as much as he otherwise would. Even now, he knows that Combeferre is probably sitting in his usual window seat, angled so that the light falls on the pages of his book, lost in his own world…

"Sebastien," Claire says quietly, snapping him back to reality.

"Damn it," he mutters, shaking his head. "So maybe this isn't distracting me as much as I thought it would."

"We'll pick a harder level," Claire decides. "That might do it."

It turns out that Claire's right. When Courfeyrac is focused on not losing the game for both of them, he doesn't spare a thought for anything else. It's well past midnight when they stop playing and Courfeyrac is so exhausted that he's about to fall asleep right there. 

"I should go to bed," he mumbles, slowly getting to his feet. 

"You do that." Claire helps him up, kissing his cheek at the door. "You'll be fine, Seb. One more day."

He nods. "Yeah, you're right. I can do this."

She smiles at him and he grins in return, giving her a small wave before walking down the hall to his own room. The door is shut and he pushes it open to find Combeferre standing by the bed, his folded glasses sitting on the blanket as he pulls his shirt off.

Courfeyrac can't do this.

"Oh," Combeferre says, pausing. "So you're sleeping here after all. I thought you might sleep in Claire's room."

"Why would I do that? This is my room." Courfeyrac walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "I haven't slept in the same room as Claire since—"

"—You were ten," Combeferre finishes. "I know. I'm sorry." 

Courfeyrac isn't awake enough to deal with this. He tugs at the hem of his shirt. "Do you mind if I…?"

"Of course not." Combeferre stands there, hesitating for a moment before he slides his pants down, so he's wearing nothing but his boxers. 

Courfeyrac swallows hard, looking away. Combeferre sleeps in his boxers, just as Courfeyrac does. He knows that, and has known it for years. He's seen Combeferre in less than his boxers more times than he can count, but they've been more careful with each other in the past two months. If nothing else, Combeferre wears his pyjama pants in the mornings when they're manoeuvring around each other in the bathroom, and even then, he's rarely gone shirtless.

Pulling his shirt off, Courfeyrac takes his pants off as well, folding them up and leaving them on his overnight bag. When he turns around, Combeferre is watching him, being very careful not to look any lower than Courfeyrac's shoulders even though he isn't wearing his glasses. 

They've only been sleeping in separate beds for the last two months, but that suddenly feels like a very long time. This feels too unfamiliar and too ordinary all at once, so Courfeyrac stands where is, waiting for Combeferre to make the first room.

With a quiet sigh, Combeferre moves his glasses to the bedside table and gets under the covers. He turns the reading lamp on so that Courfeyrac can turn the ceiling light off. "Get some rest. You look exhausted."

Courfeyrac doesn't argue, lifting the covers off his side and sliding under. It's strange, to feel the way the bed dips beside him, to have Combeferre so close while also maintaining the space between them. 

It comes rushing out of him, barely louder than a breath. "This feels so weird."

Combeferre hears him, of course he does. He turns to Courfeyrac, but stays lying flat on his back. "Does it?"

" _Yeah_ , it does," Courfeyrac replies, to the ceiling. "This feels uncomfortable and awkward, and you're one of my two best friends in the entire world. Sharing a bed shouldn't be like this. Sharing a bed with Enjolras wouldn't be like this. Enjolras and I could be sharing a bed _naked_ and it wouldn't feel like this."

"I don't really want to think about you and Enjolras naked in bed with each other," Combeferre mutters, but follows it with, "I don't know if Enjolras is a valid comparison, here. There's much more between the two of us than there is with Enjolras."

"I just want to get there," Courfeyrac confesses, squeezing his eyes shut. "I want to be comfortable with you, Combeferre. You know me better than anyone else in the entire world except my own twin. I want—I don't know, I want to be your best friend again. I want to share space with you and be fine about it. I want to talk to you like we used to. I want—well, I want you to lie on your side because I know you hate sleeping on your back. I don't want to be making you so uncomfortable that you can't even sleep the way you want."

Combeferre shuffles beside him, his weight shifting, until he's lying on his side. He huffs quietly. "You hate sleeping on your back too."

Courfeyrac rolls onto his side, his hand brushing against Combeferre's. He's about to flinch away when Combeferre touches his wrist gently.

"We'll get there," Combeferre tells him. "It might take longer than either of us want, but we _will_ do it. We'll get used to this. That's a promise."

Courfeyrac nods. "I'm holding you to that."

Combeferre shifts closer, his lips brushing against Courfeyrac's forehead. "I know you will. Good night, Courfeyrac."

Relaxing against the mattress, Courfeyrac lets his exhaustion catch up with him. "Good night, Combeferre."

:·:

Courfeyrac dreams about Combeferre. He dreams in a mix of memory and wistfulness, and the result only serves to remind him of what he no longer has.

In Courfeyrac's dream, it's early in the morning and he's tucked against Combeferre, their arms wrapped around each other. The light coming through the window is softened by the sheer white curtains, but Courfeyrac grumbles sleepily anyway, turning his face into Combeferre's neck. Everything is warm and safe and _right_ , and Courfeyrac never wants to leave this.

Combeferre stirs, his grip on Courfeyrac tightening by a fraction. He hums softly, pulling away briefly but only to shift slightly, pressing his lips to Courfeyrac's temple.

"Hi," Courfeyrac greets, his thumb stroking over Combeferre's collarbone.

"Hello." Combeferre takes Courfeyrac's hand into his own and brings it to his lips, kissing it. He threads their fingers together and smiles. "We should probably get up."

"Or," Courfeyrac replies, "we could stay right here." 

"Mm, I'm sure there's something we need to be awake for…"

"No." Courfeyrac rolls on top of Combeferre, knowing that he's starting to wake up. They're both half-hard, Courfeyrac just needs to align their hips and convince Combeferre that they should just stay in bed. 

"Courfeyrac…" Combeferre murmurs, then suddenly goes very still. His hands are gripping Courfeyrac's sides very tightly, stopping him from moving any closer. " _Courfeyrac_."

Everything, from Combeferre's tone to the look in his eyes, firmly tells Courfeyrac that no, this isn't a dream after all. This is much worse. 

"Fuck," Courfeyrac gasps, scrambling backwards, off Combeferre, off the bed entirely. "Sorry. I'm sorry." 

"Courfeyrac…" Combeferre says, sitting up in bed. 

Desperately wishing he was wearing more than his boxers, Courfeyrac grabs his jeans and a t-shirt, shutting himself in the en suite. His hands are shaking as he locks the door, leaning against it with his eyes squeezed shut. He's an idiot. He's an absolute fucking idiot who doesn't know how to keep his feelings to himself and he _knows_ he's ruined everything, if Combeferre's expression was anything to go by.

He stands where he is until he can breathe evenly again, then steps into the shower. He turns the water to cold, because somewhere past the fear for everything he's lost, he's still thinking about how it felt to be pressed up against Combeferre for the first time in months. He buys as much time as he can, scrubbing himself, brushing his teeth, making sure that his hair sits just right, until he can delay no further and needs to go back out into the bedroom.

Just as he expects, Combeferre has pulled on a t-shirt and yesterday's jeans, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him, fingers tapping against his knee. He's wearing the same expression he always does when they need to sit down and talk, and Courfeyrac feels faintly ill at the very notion. The last time they sat down to have a serious conversation, they stopped dating. Courfeyrac doesn't know how much more he can bear to lose. 

Combeferre pats the space beside him on the bed and Courfeyrac hesitates before walking over and sitting down, maintaining a large gap between them.

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Combeferre interrupts gently, shaking his head. He turns to Courfeyrac and he's trying to smile, but he looks far too sad. "Don't apologise, Courfeyrac. We're both at fault, here."

Courfeyrac doesn't know what to say to make it better, and he's too afraid that nothing he says will help anyway. After a moment, Combeferre takes a deep breath and continues.

"We've been doing this all wrong, and we both know it. We haven't given each other enough space, we haven't given ourselves the time we need to get used to…" Combeferre trails off and clears his throat. "We need to get used to the fact that we aren't dating any more."

"Oh." Courfeyrac reminds himself to breathe. "And by that, you mean…"

"When we're back home," Combeferre tells him, "I'm going to move out. I'll stay with Enjolras for a while, until I find somewhere else. We see each other every single day and it's not healthy. It's not helping."

"No," Courfeyrac replies, shaking his head. "Please. No."

"We need to do this, Courfeyrac."

"You told me we'd go back to being friends, like before." Anger is better than fear, Courfeyrac thinks. Anger means that maybe, he won't end up crying in front of Combeferre. "You _promised_ me we'd get there."

"That was before… this." Combeferre indicates the both of them and sighs heavily. "I don't want to get back together with you just because it's familiar, just because it's easy. We're going to have the same problems we had before. I know you want to go back to being best friends, but we've been together for ten years. I don't even remember how we were with each other when we were just friends."

"So you're just going to leave me entirely instead," Courfeyrac snaps, getting to his feet. "You're going to move in with Enjolras and I'm not going to see _either_ of you, am I? I'm going to lose you both. Is that how it is?"

"Courfeyrac, it's not going to be like that, I promise—"

"I don't want your promises," Courfeyrac interrupts. "They don't seem to mean a hell of a lot anyway."

"I'm trying to _help us_ ," Combeferre replies sharply. "I don't want to lose you either, but if we don't do this now, things are only going to be worse later."

"And you know everything there is to know about how things are going to be for us later, don't you?" Courfeyrac is shaking, and he balls his hands into fists in an attempt to hide it. "We're going to keep fighting until we fall out, let's break up now. We're not getting over each other fast enough, let's never see each other again."

"Damn it, Courfeyrac, that's not what I'm saying. I don't want to lose you either." Combeferre runs his hands through his hair, pulling on it. "Believe me, I don't. It's not going to happen."

It feels like it already has, but Courfeyrac suddenly feels too drained to argue. He nods numbly, knowing that nothing he says is going to change Combeferre's mind. 

He's saved from having to reply anyway by someone knocking on the door. It's the knocking of two tiny fists and Courfeyrac pulls himself together enough to walk to the door and open it. 

"Good morning, you two."

"Good morning!" they chorus, smiling up at him. Tara bounces with excitement and adds, "Mama said that if we're good and get dressed quickly, we can ask you and Uncle Henri to have breakfast with us!"

"Wow, really?" Courfeyrac crouches down and grins at them. "And I can see you're all dressed and ready. Good job, you two. Let's go."

"Uncle Henri, are you coming?" Michael asks.

Courfeyrac doesn't glance behind him, but he doesn't need to. He can already imagine the way Combeferre is pursing his lips with a small frown.

"I still need to take a shower and get changed. Why don't you two go with Uncle Seb? I'll join you guys later when I'm ready."

Satisfied with this answer, the twins take Courfeyrac's hands, tugging him towards the staircase so they can go down to the dining room. Courfeyrac glances behind him—out of curiosity or emotional masochism, he can't quite tell—but Combeferre isn't looking back, already shutting the door.

Courfeyrac smiles a little harder, hoping it will stick. He supposes that at least now, he knows where he stands with Combeferre, without a doubt.

:·:

By the time Courfeyrac has finished eating his breakfast with Tara and Michael, Combeferre still hasn't made it downstairs. It's probably intentional, but as soon as he's finished eating, he's being rushed into helping set everything up in the garden and he doesn't have the time to dwell on anything else.

There are more relatives coming today, distant aunts and uncles dropping by for the day. There's a marquee being set up outside and Courfeyrac needs to make sure there are enough seats for everyone, while dodging the caterers who are setting up the tables full of food. Once he's done with the chairs, he then needs to drive into town to buy more drinks just in case, then help the caterers set up a few more tables, and by the time the other guests have started arriving, Courfeyrac hasn't had more than five minutes to himself.

He welcomes it, because being busy mean that he can't dwell over Combeferre. Everything is limited to a dull ache in his chest, and that's much better than any of his other options right now. 

Claire notices that something's wrong immediately. Courfeyrac isn't sure if she heard their argument earlier, or if it's just the fact that they always know when something's wrong with each other, but they don't get the chance to talk in private because they're both being pulled into conversations with family members they haven't seen for a long time. It takes all of Courfeyrac's self control to keep himself from looking around for Combeferre, but he's proud of himself for managing not to give in to the temptation. Instead, he just sticks with Claire, moving from aunt to third-cousin to someone who Courfeyrac genuinely can't remember whether he's related to. 

At some point, Claire takes Courfeyrac's elbow, steering him from one person to the next, until they finally have a moment's respite. She tightens her grip on him, leading him around the corner of the garden, to where it's quiet. 

"If we're talking," Courfeyrac tells her quietly, "I think we're better off going inside. Preferably with a bottle of wine each."

"We'll go inside," Claire decides, ignoring the second half. "My room."

As soon as they're in the house, Courfeyrac no longer needs to pretend. His hands start trembling as they walk through the door. By the time they're at Claire's room, he's a mess.

"Fuck, Seb." Claire holds him by the shoulders, then pulls him into a tight hug. "Shh, it's okay."

"It's not," he replies. "Nothing's going to be okay."

"What happened?" she asks, leading him over to the bed to sit down. 

"Combeferre's moving out," Courfeyrac tells her. "We—we slipped up this morning. We were in the same bed and we weren't fully awake, and…"

"Oh." Claire's eyes go wide. "Oh no."

"Apparently, we haven't been giving each other enough space," Courfeyrac says with a hollow laugh. "So he's fixing that. He's going to move out and I'm never going to see him again and I'm—I've lost him, Claire. I've lost him completely. Even as a friend."

"Seb, you need to talk to him. You need to—I don't know. All I know is that you need to get back together with him because you're _miserable_. I can see that and I know he can too."

"And he's not doing anything about it, is he?" Courfeyrac laughs unhappily. "Or, wait, I guess he is. He's doing his best to make sure we stay broken up."

"Sebastien—"

"I love him so much, Claire," Courfeyrac says, his voice cracking. He can't hold back his tears any longer and Claire makes a pained sound when she sees them, pulling him into her arms. Courfeyrac clings to her, his shoulders shaking. "I love him, and I can't do anything about it."

"Well, clearly he must feel something for you too," Claire points out.

"But he's gotten over me enough to move out." Courfeyrac squeezes his eyes shut, wiping his tears away. "Fuck, why couldn't I just be aromantic like you?"

"Because then you wouldn't be _you_ ," Claire chides lightly. "Because you and Combeferre love each other, _romantically_ and you're going to work this out, I swear you will. Even if I have to knock heads together to make it happen. It's like you're making up for the fact that the first time you started dating, it just happened smoothly before I even had to interfere."

Courfeyrac laughs softly at that, sniffing. "I don't think it's going to work that way, this time around."

"Do me a favour," Claire tells him, grabbing the tissue box off her bedside table and holding it out to Courfeyrac. "Don't give up on him, okay?"

Courfeyrac makes his best attempt at a smile. "I couldn't if I tried."

Claire sits with him as he wipes his face dry and blows his nose until it stops running. Courfeyrac washes his face, but his eyes are still red-rimmed. He supposes that if anybody asks, he can laugh it off and say that he choked from trying to eat too quickly.

Except then he walks outside again, and Combeferre sees him from across the garden. He frowns and immediately starts walking over, but he only gets halfway across the garden before Tara and Michael approach him, holding up their plastic spades. They clearly want him to dig with them and Courfeyrac knows that any other time, Combeferre would agree without thinking twice. Now, however, he hesitates, looking up at Courfeyrac again. 

Claire has already been pulled into another conversation, and he knows that if she was there, this would go differently. He knows that he should walk towards Combeferre, to apologise to the children and take him aside to talk. Instead, he turns away, pretending not to notice Combeferre at all. It might be petty, but it makes him feel a little less pathetic for this morning.

He lets himself get pulled into more conversations, taking his time with them, enjoying the distraction. He makes sure to keep his back to Combeferre, to keep himself from looking for him.

It's a good half-hour later before he finds some time to himself. The moment he turns around, his gaze settles on Combeferre, kneeling by the muddiest patch of the garden, talking animatedly as he digs with Tara and Michael. They have their jars with them, and Courfeyrac finds himself just standing there and watching for a moment, knowing that Combeferre is far too distracted to notice.

"You need to marry that man," Franky says, standing beside Courfeyrac. "He's great with children. He's going to be a wonderful father." 

"Yeah," Courfeyrac replies quietly. "He would be."

"But seriously, Seb. You've been dating him for longer than I've even known Mattheu. You should do something about that."

Taking a deep breath, Courfeyrac turns to his sister with a smile. "We are, believe me."

Franky smiles in return, wrapping her arm around him and hugging him briefly. "Glad to hear it. You don't look all that well, you know. Food didn't agree with you?"

"Yeah," Courfeyrac replies. "Something like that. I might just… go inside for a bit and sit down, okay?"

"Okay. I'll let Henri know."

"You don't have to," Courfeyrac replies, shaking his head. "Let him play with the kids. I'm pretty sure he's enjoying himself as much as they are. You should see him when he catches moths, his entire face lights up like it's the best thing in the world, and he'll identify it, he'll draw it, he'll spend _days_ talking about it."

Franky laughs at him fondly. "Look at you. You're so ridiculously in love."

Courfeyrac laughs quietly, vaguely proud of the way he's managing to keep himself together. "Yeah. I guess I really am."

He walks inside, intent on shutting himself in his room, but he's immediately struck with how much it smells like Combeferre. The bed's probably going to be even worse and he knows he won't be able to handle that right now. He goes to Claire's room instead, curling up in her beanbag. It's not often that he needs to be alone like this, but hopefully with the sheer number of people outside, it will be a while until anyone notices he's not with them. He knows that Claire will be kind enough not to point it out, and hopefully Franky won't either. Amy and Kavita are sitting with a group of their younger third-cousins, so they'll probably be distracted anyway. Courfeyrac figures he's safe for a while, and it should at least buy him some time to pretend like everything's fine again.

:·:

Claire finds him a while later, opening the door quietly and walking over to the beanbag. She places her hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder and gives him a sad smile. "Henri was looking for you."

"Can't have been looking very hard," Courfeyrac mutters. "This is probably the most obvious hiding place in the world."

"Okay, let me rephrase that," Claire says, shoving Courfeyrac over so there's space for her beside him. "He went looking for you and yeah, it probably took him less than a second to figure out where you were, but I cornered him and talked to him—"

"Why would you do that?" Courfeyrac grumbles. 

"Well, the original plan was to punch him," Claire replies, linking their arms. "Then I realised that he's a lot bigger than me."

"He wouldn't have hit back, you know."

"I know. That's another reason I didn't do it."

"Do I want to know what you talked about?"

"We talked about plenty of things," she replies, in a sweet tone that means that Courfeyrac can push all he wants, but he's not going to get answers.

Courfeyrac sighs heavily, leaning against her. "I don't want to go home. Going home means that Henri's going to leave me forever and… I can't deal with that. I don't know _how_ to deal with that. I've never been without him. Not like this."

"Oh, honey." Claire wraps her arm around him. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could make it better."

"I want to stay here, where we can pretend we're still together—no, actually, I don't think I can deal with any more _pretending_ either. I want to go back two months and shake myself for ever thinking that breaking up was a good idea. I should have fought for us. I should have told him that we'd fix it because _this_ isn't us fixing it. This isn't a solution at all, it's the worst possible outcome in the entire world."

"Maybe the distance will fix things?" Claire suggests, and he can tell that she's trying to be as optimistic as possible. "Maybe you'll work things out. Maybe he'll realise just how much he needs you."

Courfeyrac tries to believe it but he can't. Combeferre always knows exactly what he's doing and if he's leaving Courfeyrac properly this time, that's all there is to it. 

"We should probably go back outside," Courfeyrac murmurs. There's only so long he can hide before other members of his family start looking for him and as much as he doesn't want to face Combeferre right now, he definitely doesn't want to worry anyone.

"Yeah." Claire gets to her feet and offers Courfeyrac a hand to help him up, letting the conversation slide for now. "I'll be right next to you if you need me, okay?"

He nods, managing a smile. "Thanks."

When they get back outside, Courfeyrac finds Combeferre pacing. Tara is in his arms, dozing as she's rocked, but Courfeyrac knows him well enough to recognise the tension in his shoulders, in the way he moves. 

Claire squeezes Courfeyrac's arm, both comforting and questioning at once. He turns to her with a small smile and does his very best to hold it as he walks over to Combeferre, who has stopped pacing now, still rocking Tara as he watches them.

"Hey," Combeferre greets quietly, giving Courfeyrac a searching look as soon as he's close enough.

"What happened here?" Courfeyrac asks, noticing the tears on Tara's cheeks, on Combeferre's shirt.

"The twins got competitive. Tara found a grasshopper and Michael got jealous. He let it go when she wasn't looking. He's in time-out with Mattheu right now." Combeferre gives Tara a fond look. "Poor thing, she was so upset about it. I told her I'd try and catch her another one, but she didn't want me to. She was just too sad to do anything about it."

Courfeyrac can relate to Tara on a deep level and it makes him laugh quietly, shaking his head.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just…" Courfeyrac looks at Combeferre, properly takes him in, doing his best to commit the image to memory. "You would have done it, if she asked you to. You would have looked all afternoon, just to find another grasshopper for her."

"Courfeyrac…?"

Combeferre is so kind, so caring, and Courfeyrac is so desperately in love with him. He doesn't think that's ever going to change.

" _Courfeyrac_ ," Combeferre says, urgently this time, sounding pained, and Courfeyrac realises his eyes are welling with tears, that his smile is slipping.

"I'm fine," he lies and Combeferre _knows_ it's a lie, but it's still easier than telling the truth. "It's fine."

"It's _not fine_ ," Combeferre replies, his voice cracking. "I'm doing this to you. It's my fault."

Courfeyrac wants to laugh. He wants to cry. He's so very close to doing both at once when Claire appears beside him.

"Excuse me." Her tone is so cold that Combeferre flinches. "I'm just going to take my brother for a while, if that's alright with you."

She takes him by the elbow, guiding him away until Combeferre is out of sight.

"Don't be angry at him—" Courfeyrac begins, but Claire growls, cutting him off.

"I've tried, Sebastien. I've tried _really hard_ not to be angry at him because you're both giant idiots who don't see the big picture, but _fuck_ if I'm going to watch you stand there in front of him and fall apart, and not hate him a little for it."

"I can't be doing this right now," Courfeyrac mutters, pressing his palms to his eyes, trying to pull himself together. He doesn't move his hands away until he's certain he's not going to cry. "There's family around and Amy and Kavita are still here, and they need—"

"They need you to be happy," Claire interrupts. "That's all any of us need right now, okay? Which means that you're staying with me until the party's over. Maybe longer. I shouldn't have let you go and talk to him in the first place."

Courfeyrac sighs, knowing there's no point in trying to argue. He spends the rest of the party making the rounds with his relatives, Claire firmly by his side, deflecting any questions about Combeferre so that Courfeyrac doesn't have to. She keeps him distracted while making sure he doesn't run into Combeferre again, until the party's over, their extended family is all gone and they need to pack everything up.

He's too busy helping to collapse the large tables for the caterers to pay attention to where Combeferre is. Every time he catches himself glancing around, he stops himself and puts his head down, concentrating on what he's doing. He doesn't see Combeferre until he and Claire finally walk back into the house, to find Franky and Mattheu have packed their bags and are ready to leave, with Amy and Kavita behind them.

Combeferre is carrying Michael this time, who is already fast asleep with his head tucked under Combeferre's chin. Franky is carrying Tara while Mattheu takes care of the bags.

"We'll see you soon," Franky says, kissing both Courfeyrac and Claire on the cheeks. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"

Courfeyrac winks at her. "You know me."

"I do," Franky replies darkly. "Which is exactly why I worry. Henri, you make sure to keep my little brother out of trouble, won't you?"

Combeferre and Courfeyrac look at each other for the first time since Claire interrupted them before. Combeferre looks sad, but he manages a smile anyway. "Yeah. I will."

"He always does," Courfeyrac murmurs, making the others laugh.

Combeferre helps carry Michael to the car and there's one last round of hugs before Franky and Mattheu get into their car, driving away. Amy and Kavita leave shortly after, and Courfeyrac is pleased to see Grand-mère Justine hug them both.

"Thank you," Amy whispers, hugging Courfeyrac tightly. "Thank you so much. I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly," he replies, then says the same to Kavita when she hugs him with an apology of her own. 

Once they're gone, Combeferre turns to Courfeyrac. "We should probably look at going sometime soon too."

"Actually," Claire speaks up before Courfeyrac can, "we decided that Seb's staying the night."

"…Oh." There's a flicker of hurt in Combeferre's expression that Courfeyrac notices in amongst his own surprise. "I have work tomorrow—"

"So I'll drive him home," Claire finishes. "Seb, you have tomorrow off anyway, don't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Great. You don't mind if I hold onto my brother for a little longer, do you Henri?"

Combeferre doesn't reply immediately, his shoulders slumping, but then he pulls himself together and smiles. "Of course not. I'll just… go and pack my bag now."

Courfeyrac wants to help, but Claire doesn't let him go, keeping him downstairs with their parents and Grand-mère Justine, who is tired but happily talking about how much she enjoyed the day. It doesn't take Combeferre very long to get ready and when he comes down, Courfeyrac suddenly finds it very difficult to breathe past the lump in his throat. 

Combeferre is leaving. It might just be a small overnight bag in his hands now, but this is just the beginning. Combeferre is going to pack half their life into boxes and bags and take it away. Courfeyrac doesn't know how to process that. He can't.

They all walk him to his car and Combeferre turns to Courfeyrac, giving him a tight smile.

"See you later."

"…Yeah." Courfeyrac nods. "See you."

"Oh, don't be shy," Grand-mère Justine speaks up from behind them. "You can kiss him goodbye, you know. We won't mind."

"Don't," Claire says. "You'll embarrass them."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," their father replies, laughing softly.

Courfeyrac doesn't know what to do or what to say. Combeferre looks at him and sighs, wetting his lips. He takes a step forward, cupping Courfeyrac's cheek in his hand, and kisses him. It's a firm kiss, it lingers as Combeferre slowly pulls away, and it feels like a goodbye. Courfeyrac exhales shakily, feeling like he's going to break. Combeferre's thumb brushes over Courfeyrac's cheek before he quickly pulls his hand away.

"Bye."

Courfeyrac nods, not trusting his voice to stay even. He stays right where he is, watching as Combeferre gets in the car with one final glance in his direction, then drives away. Courfeyrac stands there until the car is out of sight, until Claire puts a hand on his shoulder, after everyone else has gone inside.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs and he's not sure if it's for the kiss or for keeping him here, or the entire situation.

"I'm going to get home tomorrow," Courfeyrac says, slow and certain, "and he's going to be gone. How do you deal with that, Claire? How are you meant to just go about your life like it hasn't just fallen to pieces?" 

He can feel the tears on his cheeks now, and makes no effort to wipe them away. Claire makes a sad sound, pulling him into her arms and holding onto him tightly. "I'll drive you home tomorrow, okay? I'll stay over for however long you need me to. I'm working from home for the next month anyway. If you need me, I'll stay. I'd ask you to stay here for longer, if you didn't have to get back to work, but I wasn't going to let you get in a car with Combeferre for two hours after everything that's happened."

With a grimace, Courfeyrac rests his chin on Claire's shoulder. "Yeah. Good call."

"I have video games. I also smuggled a couple of bottles of wine into my room, if you want."

Hugging her tightly, Courfeyrac sniffs. "You're the best."

:·:

Courfeyrac wakes up the next morning alone in a bed that still smells like Combeferre. He buries his face into the pillow and sighs heavily, not wanting to move. Sometime during the night, he's moved from his side of the bed to—

He supposes it doesn't really count as Combeferre's side of the bed any more. He squeezes his eyes shut and momentarily wishes he could just stop everything, stop this day from happening, stop existing entirely. The moment passes, and he pushes himself up so he's sitting, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

He goes home today. He wonders if it's even going to feel like home when he gets there, or if it's just going to feel horrible and empty. It's going to be too big for just the one person to live in. Perhaps he'll need to find a place to stay, too. He could stay with Marius for a while, if he and Cosette don't mind, until he finds a small apartment. 

A knock on his door pulls him from his thoughts and he clears his throat before replying, "Yeah, I'm up."

The door opens and Claire pokes her head in, taking one look at Courfeyrac, at which side of the bed he's on, and sighing at him. "We're all having breakfast together once you shower and get dressed. Then I can drive you home whenever you're ready."

"That might take a while," Courfeyrac warns.

"I know," she replies, giving him a sad smile. "Take as much time as you need, okay?"

Courfeyrac plans to, but he's never really seen the point in delaying the inevitable. There's only so much he can do here and the dread is eating him up. He has breakfast with his family, helps wash up, spends some time talking to each of them before he finally turns to Claire. 

"I'm ready to go."

She nods, because she knows better than to question him. They put his bag into the back of her beetle, along with a few of Claire's belongings too, just in case. She picks out his favourite CDs, putting them into her car stereo and they begin the journey back to Paris. 

For the entire two hours, Courfeyrac finds that he can't sit still. He has an inkling of what he's going to come home to, but he has no idea about the specifics, about how it's going to affect them in the long run, how it's going to affect the group dynamic of their friends, and all of that scares him more than he can even put into words for Claire. She understands anyway, reaching over to squeeze his hand periodically as she drives, singing along to songs until Courfeyrac joins her with a reluctant smile. She can't make this better and they both know that, but she can make the trip home a little more pleasant and she does her very best to do just that. 

The dread only really hits once they're back in Paris, winding through the streets. He stares out of the window at the familiar landmarks and sighs heavily. 

"What if I can't do this?"

"You can," Claire replies simply. "You'll get through this and it's… fuck, Seb, it's going to be really hard, I'm not going to deny that. But you'll get there. And I'll be here for as long as you need me, you know that."

Courfeyrac leans his head against the window and squeezes his eyes shut. He knows just how much he'll need her without Combeferre. He doesn't want to be the kind of person to hide away and lick his wounds, he _can't_ be that person because he needs to interact with his friends too much to hide, but then he's worrying about the group dynamics all over again and it's a horrible loop that gets worse and worse with every turn. 

He opens his eyes again when Claire slows the car to a stop and brakes. They're at his apartment and he looks over at her, trying and failing to smile.

"We can sit here for a while if you want," Claire tells him, settling back in her seat. "We could listen to the next song."

He considers it for a moment, but he knows that if he stays for one song, it's going to turn into another song and another, and he'll never want to get out of the car and go up to the apartment to see what Combeferre's taken and what he's left behind. Courfeyrac can't even bear to think of the possibility that Combeferre's left their gifts to each other behind, he doesn't know what he'll do with the old, leather-bound books about things he doesn't know, the paperweight designed to look like a moth trapped in resin. He doesn't know what to do, except to get out of the car and grab his bag. 

Claire walks right beside him, waiting as he puts his key into the lock and turns the handle. She's behind him as he pushes the door and walks inside.

He freezes in his tracks, and her voice is urgent when she asks, "Seb?" 

Combeferre is sitting on the couch. Around him, the apartment looks… just the way they'd left it. 

"Oh," Claire breathes, when she sees. "Oh. I'm just. I'm going to go for a walk, okay?"

Courfeyrac nods absently, not taking his eyes off Combeferre. The door clicks shut and he opens his mouth to speak. He doesn't know what to say.

"You're still here," he whispers, finally finding his voice. 

"I am." Combeferre slowly rises to his feet, fiddling with his glasses. "Um…"

"I didn't expect you to be here," Courfeyrac says, a little louder. "To be entirely honest with you, I was expecting to come home and find that you'd already packed your things and left."

"Oh." Combeferre is silent for a moment as he mulls over that. "Do you… want me gone?"

"Jesus christ, Combeferre." Courfeyrac's voice is back to a breathy whisper and he laughs, more broken than amused. "No. _No_. Not at all."

"Good," Combeferre breathes. "I didn't want to go."

"You're meant to be at work," Courfeyrac realises.

Combeferre shrugs. "I called in sick. I wanted to be here when you got home."

"You never call in sick," Courfeyrac presses on. "You called in sick because…"

"Because I wanted to be here," Combeferre finishes. "I didn't know when you'd be back, but I wanted you to know that I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to. I don't want to leave."

"For now?" Courfeyrac asks uncertainly.

"I don't want to leave _you_ , Courfeyrac. I never did."

"But you did." This doesn't quite feel real. Courfeyrac balls his hands into fists to ground himself. 

"…I did." Combeferre's shoulders sag. He looks so incredibly tired and Courfeyrac finally takes notice of his rumpled hair, the fact that he's wearing his favourite sweater, the worn-out grey one that he doesn't wear out of the house because it's falling apart. He wears it when he's upset and it makes Courfeyrac's chest ache even more. Combeferre rubs his hand over his face and he hasn't shaved yet, the stubble bristling against his hand. "But you left too, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac sucks in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. "If I could change that, I would."

Combeferre blinks at him, looking genuinely surprised and Courfeyrac wants to laugh, wants to cry, doesn't know what to do at all. Combeferre clears his throat and sounds a little uncertain when he asks, "Would you?"

"I _would_ ," Courfeyrac replies, shaking his head. "If I could go back and stop this from ever happening, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I love you."

"Oh." Combeferre breathes, his shoulders relaxing. "I love you too."

"But I'm going to be angry for a while, okay?" Courfeyrac gestures between them with a hand, gestures at the door and Combeferre nods like he understands, of course he does. "I'm going to be angry about this."

Combeferre nods, rocking back on his heels. "I understand."

"Well, that makes one of us." Courfeyrac laughs unhappily. "I'm upset that you could make me believe that you were leaving, but I'm also really upset that you're still on the other side of the room instead of _here_."

Combeferre fixes that immediately, crossing the room with long strides. Courfeyrac opens his arms and Combeferre pulls him close, trembling as he hugs Courfeyrac to his chest.

Courfeyrac breathes him in, fingers digging into the soft wool of Combeferre's sweater. He can tell that Combeferre is unsure of what is allowed, holding himself rigidly so that he doesn't upset Courfeyrac and make things even worse.

"I want you to kiss me and mean it," Courfeyrac murmurs. "Not have it be an act for my family. It doesn't have to be right now, but…"

"I always meant it," Combeferre tells him, thumb stroking across Courfeyrac's cheek. "Every single time I kissed you over the weekend, I meant it." 

Courfeyrac makes a broken sound at the back of his throat, pulling Combeferre down into a hard kiss, which Combeferre returns fervently. Courfeyrac presses himself closer to Combeferre, half-expecting to be pushed away with confusion because Combeferre isn't quite sure where they stand, but it doesn't happen. Combeferre simply takes what Courfeyrac is willing to give and doesn't push for anything else. The realisation only makes Courfeyrac want to kiss him even more.

They're both panting softly as they pull apart and Courfeyrac smiles for all of two seconds before it falters and he's hit with the full force of just how much he's missed this. Suddenly, he can't quite breath past the swell of sadness in his chest and it must show because Combeferre makes a wounded noise, pulling him close again.

"I promise you, I'm not going anywhere," Combeferre murmurs into Courfeyrac's hair. "Not unless you need me to go. If you need time, I can ask Enjolras—"

"I need you here," Courfeyrac interrupts, clinging to him. "We need to sort this out, but I need you with me while we do that."

"Okay," Combeferre breathes, visibly relaxing. "Okay—I'll be right here."

Half an hour later, Claire sends Courfeyrac a text to ask how he is and if it's safe to return to the apartment. He replies that all is well and barely a minute later, she walks through the door, finding them curled up on the couch together, Courfeyrac's head resting on Combeferre's shoulder, their fingers entwined.

"Oh, thank fuck," she sighs, smiling at them. "You've sorted yourselves out, then?"

"We're getting there," Combeferre replies, glancing at Courfeyrac, who smiles up at him and nods.

"Good," Claire nods approvingly, before waving her keys in the air. "Do you still want me to stay, or…?"

"Stay for lunch," Courfeyrac tells her, checking the time. "My treat, considering I made you drive all the way out here."

"It should be my treat," Combeferre speaks up. "Considering this whole thing is my fault."

"It's _our_ fault, and I will fight you on that." Courfeyrac presses his lips together into a thin line. "I might actually fight you on that, and I don't really want to do that right now. Let me pay for Claire."

Combeferre relents immediately. "Of course. Where shall we go?"

Claire picks a café near their apartment and they walk there together, Claire walking a step in front of them. Courfeyrac wants to reach for Combeferre's hand but he's afraid to, still not quite over the occasional pricks of anger, directed at both Combeferre and himself. The last thing he wants is to mislead Combeferre into thinking that everything is alright between them, only to have that anger resurface. He doesn't want to rush into anything without being completely certain about it first and now that he and Combeferre have reassured each other that neither of them wants the other to leave, perhaps a little distance will be good for them.

Combeferre immediately understands, maintaining the distance that Courfeyrac establishes when they're out. He doesn't reach for Courfeyrac at all, watching him cautiously for confirmation that everything is still okay.

The three of them have known each other for most of their lives and they fall into the familiar push-and-pull almost effortlessly as they have lunch. Combeferre is sitting beside Courfeyrac, close enough that their arms brush against each other, and Claire smiles at them both. It's a relief to see her anger from yesterday is gone, now that they're working things out. Combeferre slowly relaxes around her too, noticing the same thing.

Claire leaves afterwards, hugging Combeferre goodbye and walking with Courfeyrac to her car, where she pulls him into her arms and doesn't let go for a long time.

"I'm pretty sure Henri would wait forever until you decided that things were okay again," she tells him, "because he loves you just as much as you love him and even when he pretended to be happy over the weekend, it's nothing compared to how happy he looks now that you're fixing things."

Courfeyrac bites his lip to hide his smile. "Really?"

"Yeah. But for the sake of your combined sanity, Seb, talk to him. Work out exactly where you stand with each other and _communicate_ , okay? Because I thought you were good at that, right up until you broke up with each other because you thought that's what the other wanted. I'm really happy that you both know you still love each other but it would have been nicer if there were fewer tears involved."

He huffs out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, alright."

"Love you. Call me soon, yeah?" Claire kisses his cheek. "Be good."

"I'll be just as good as you are," he replies, grinning. "Thank you for everything. Could you give Amy a call for me? Just to let her know that things are… better."

"Leave it to me, little brother. You just focus on figuring the two of you out, okay?"

He waves her off one last time before going back inside to Combeferre sitting on the couch. Courfeyrac only hesitates for a moment before walking over and sitting beside him, bumping their shoulders together. 

"Do you want to watch a movie? You can pick. I don't have much to do this afternoon and if you're free, we could watch movies?"

Combeferre smiles at Courfeyrac. "That sounds good to me."

They end up watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy, because it gives them an excuse to sit together for hours. They order pizza for dinner and eat it in front of the TV and by the end of the last movie, they've relaxed enough that Combeferre has his arm wrapped around Courfeyrac's shoulders to hold him close. They occasionally turn to steal kisses from each other but keep them light, careful not to cross any boundaries they aren't ready for just yet.

"Bed?" Combeferre asks, when the credits are rolling and Courfeyrac is yawning, struggling to keep his eyes open. "…You'll need to get up, Courfeyrac. I can't carry you to bed."

"Mm, yes you can," Courfeyrac murmurs, and that's enough to wake him up. "Uh, I mean…"

"I technically could, but I'm not going to do that right now." Combeferre stands, offering Courfeyrac a hand. "Let's go to bed."

Courfeyrac hesitates once they're at the door of Combeferre's room, pulling his hand away with an apologetic smile. "I… should probably sleep in my room."

Combeferre nods, only looking disappointed for a fraction of a second. "Of course."

"But maybe I could visit you for lunch at work tomorrow?" Courfeyrac suggests. "We haven't had a lunch date since…"

"Yeah," Combeferre says softly, smiling. "A lunch date sounds really good."

:·:

"What do we tell Enjolras?" Combeferre asks the following evening.

They're cuddling on the couch while they read and Courfeyrac goes very still, slowly closing his book and putting it down in his lap. He imagines telling Enjolras that they're working their way back to how things used to be. He imagines the hope and excitement and relief in Enjolras' expression, and it's difficult enough to deal with when he's just imagining it. Courfeyrac might definitely be getting back together with Combeferre but they're not there yet. They're still learning to feel comfortable with each other, still readjusting to the fact that they're _allowed_ to be affectionate with each other again, and he doesn't want to rush anything.

"My thoughts exactly," Combeferre murmurs, nodding. For a moment, Courfeyrac thinks he's voiced his thoughts, but he hasn't. Combeferre just knows him well enough to read his expression.

"Nothing yet," Courfeyrac mumbles, even as he rests his head against Combeferre's shoulder. "I don't want to say anything until… well, until we know what to say, I guess."

Combeferre hums quietly, putting his book down and wrapping an arm around Courfeyrac. "Enjolras was… angry with us when we broke up. He did his best to hide it, but…"

"We know him too well," Courfeyrac finishes, nodding. "I remember that. I thought it was just him trying not to take sides at first, but then I realised he was actually angry."

"Which makes sense, in hindsight," Combeferre sighs. "We spent the last two months feeling miserable, even though we thought we were doing the right thing. It must have been so obvious to everyone else that we really weren't."

"Maybe it _was_ the right thing," Courfeyrac muses. He finds Combeferre's hand, interlacing their fingers. "It hurt, I'm not going to deny that, but we were both terrified that we were falling out of love. At least now we know that's not the case. Maybe we needed that time."

"I just wish that I didn't hurt you so much before we got there." Combeferre squeezes Courfeyrac's hand. "I wish last weekend didn't happen the way it did. Even if it got us here, I keep thinking about the look on your face when I said I was leaving. I keep replaying that last afternoon in my head over and over, and you looked _crushed_ and I realised then that neither of us wanted this, and I was afraid it was too late."

"But you're still here," Courfeyrac murmurs. "It wasn't too late. We're okay. We'll be okay."

"I couldn't even drive home. Not right away. I drove away from the house and then I had to pull over because—" Combeferre's voice wavers and he cuts himself off, closing his mouth firmly.

"It's okay," Courfeyrac tells him. "We're both at fault here, it's not just you. I think you keep forgetting that."

Leaning back against the couch, Combeferre sighs heavily. 

Courfeyrac presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you, and I'm not angry at you any more."

"You're too quick to forgive people. You should be angrier."

"And you should forgive yourself a little easier, because you're pretty good at forgiving people too, unless it's you." Courfeyrac shuffles closer, until he's pressed against Combeferre's side. "If you really want to make it up to me, though, you should take me out on a date tomorrow night."

"A date?" Combeferre smiles. "Are we _dating_ now?"

"We spent hours cuddling on the couch last night under the guise of watching movies," Courfeyrac replies. "You tell me."

"You _want_ to be dating?"

"I wasn't aware that I needed a neon sign that reads, _I am ridiculously in love with Henri Combeferre_ but that's okay, I'll fix that. Do you have a preference for colours?" Courfeyrac grins, before his expression softens. "Of course I want to go on a dates with you. I want to spend my whole life with you and that hasn't changed once in the last ten years. Maybe longer than that, because I can't even remember how long I had a crush on you for. Claire would know, she's the one who stores all this information to embarrass me with later—"

Courfeyrac can't say any more, because Combeferre leans forwards, kissing him hard. Their books fall to the floor and Combeferre pays them no mind, pulling Courfeyrac into his lap so they're chest to chest, arms wrapping around each other desperately. 

"You know I feel the same," Combeferre murmurs against Courfeyrac's lips and it's not a question because it doesn't need to be. He kisses along Courfeyrac's jaw, all the way to his ear. "I love you."

He bites Courfeyrac's neck gently, making him gasp, his hips jerking forward. They're both hard and Courfeyrac pulls away immediately, getting some space between them. "Fuck. I'm—"

"Don't," Combeferre says before Courfeyrac can apologise. "You don't have to be sorry."

"I really want this," Courfeyrac whispers, frustrated with himself. "But I can't."

"We'll wait. Take your time." Combeferre squeezes Courfeyrac's hand before letting go. "Take as long as you need."

"Maybe I'm just holding out for a few dates first," Courfeyrac jokes, but he can't quite make his tone light enough. "Maybe we can just…"

"Yes, of course," Combeferre nods, giving Courfeyrac space to settle back on the couch beside him. Courfeyrac takes Combeferre's hand, squeezing it gently. They smile at each other and Combeferre relaxes a little. "Where do you want to go for our date? We could go somewhere after work tomorrow."

"Surprise me," Courfeyrac murmurs, leaning into Combeferre's side. "Your surprises are the best."

Combeferre proves him right the next day, meeting Courfeyrac at his office after work. They work within a ten minute walk of each other, but Combeferre must have finished a little earlier to make sure he's standing in the lobby just as Courfeyrac is about to leave, holding a long-stemmed rose.

"Wow." Courfeyrac smiles as he walks over to Combeferre. "I don't even remember the last time I got a rose. I thought we didn't do flowers."

Combeferre shrugs, looking pleased with himself. "You asked me to surprise you."

"Okay." Courfeyrac takes the rose, holding Combeferre's hand and squeezing tightly. "Where to?"

Combeferre leads the way out of the building and through the streets, stopping briefly at a café because they both need coffee, until they're at the planetarium.

"I remember all the nights we spent stargazing at your family's house when we were younger," Combeferre mumbles. "When we'd sit on the balcony at night wrapped in blankets and the surrounding area was dark enough that we could see lots of stars. I was thinking about it all weekend, actually. I wanted to show Tara and Michael, but…"

"Next time," Courfeyrac says, kissing Combeferre's cheek. "Next year, or maybe when we meet up for Christmas. Oh, we could get them telescopes."

Combeferre laughs softly. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Look at me, we're on a date and I'm already making plans for something that's months away." Courfeyrac bites his lip, far too happy to actually be embarrassed about it. "This is weird, isn't it? I feel like we're on our first date all over again, except we know each other too well and we know that this is going to work out. Except it doesn't feel like one of our regular date nights either. I'm too nervous for that, but I don't know what I'm nervous about."

Combeferre squeezes Courfeyrac's hand. "Well, for my part, I'm kind of nervous that you'll decide that you can find someone easier to date, who wouldn't hurt you like I did. Even if I'm pretty sure you're staying, I can't stop that little voice that says _what if he leaves_? When we weren't together, I was always so convinced that you'd come home with someone else one day, and that would be it."

Courfeyrac laughs with disbelief. "I wasn't even looking to date people when we weren't together. I wasn't interested in anyone else before and I can promise you that I'm not going to be interested in anyone else now. I've only ever wanted to be with you. I don't need to date other people to know that you're the one for me."

Combeferre fiddles with his glasses, looking embarrassed. "You're right, this is a weird date. We're caught somewhere between _please don't leave me_ and _I want to spend the rest of my life with you_."

"Well, if it helps at all, I'm not going anywhere and I _do_ want to spend the rest of my life with you," Courfeyrac declares.

"Good," Combeferre nods. "Same here."

"We should go back to being boyfriends," Courfeyrac decides. "I think that's what we both want. I think we're there."

"Boyfriends, as in tell tell-everyone-we're-back-together boyfriends?" Combeferre asks.

"Maybe we can show up at the next group meeting holding hands. That should make it obvious enough." Courfeyrac grins. "Except maybe Enjolras will get mad that we didn't tell him first."

"We'll invite him over for dinner sometime this week," Combeferre decides. "We can tell him then. It'll be nice to have dinner with the three of us without it being awkward."

"We're sorting our relationship out in a planetarium," Courfeyrac realises, looking around. "Fuck, we are such dorks."

Combeferre laughs, wrapping an arm around Courfeyrac's shoulders and kissing his forehead. "This isn't how I planned this date to go, but I'm definitely not complaining."

"Let's go look at space," Courfeyrac says. "And then dinner?"

Combeferre smiles warmly. "That was part of my original plan too."

They spend an hour at the planetarium and don't let go of each other's hand once, not even on the way home when they pick up dinner form one of their favourite restaurants. Combeferre sets the table when they get home and Courfeyrac finds a tall glass bottle to house his rose in lieu of a vase.

As they eat, they talk about their days and all of a sudden, things feel just as they always were. They feel _right_ for the first time in months. Courfeyrac can't stop smiling, feels his cheeks growing sore as the night goes on, but he doesn't really mind because Combeferre can't either.

When they go to bed that night, Combeferre lingers at his door for a moment, holding it open in an unspoken invitation. Courfeyrac accepts, kissing Combeferre and feeling the curve of his smile, looking around at the room and realising that it's barely any different to when he'd last been here, just emptier where his belongings used to be.

He turns around to comment on it, but Combeferre has his back turned as he undresses for bed. Courfeyrac does the same, following Combeferre's lead as they get under the covers, lying on their sides, facing each other.

"This feels… right," Courfeyrac whispers as Combeferre's fingers wrap around his. "This feels really good."

Combeferre smiles. "Our bed felt empty without you in it. I could never think of it as anything but _our_ bed, _our_ room. I kept waking up and wishing I'd find you here."

"Well, I'm here." Courfeyrac kisses him. "I'm going to be right here."

They fall asleep wrapped in each other's arm, and Courfeyrac sleeps better than he has for a long time.

:·:

Enjolras looks between the two of them the moment he arrives for dinner and smiles. "Do you have news for me?"

Courfeyrac stares at him. "How can you tell?"

"You're happy," Enjolras states, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You both look incredibly happy. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen both of you this happy?"

Combeferre exchanges a look with Courfeyrac and smiles apologetically. "I think we might, yes."

"Does this have anything to do with Courfeyrac's annual family reunion? I feel like there's a story there." Enjolras asks, but then shrugs his shoulders and follows them into the kitchen. "Either way, I just want you both to know how happy I am that you're working things out. I was… worried."

"But we worked it out," Combeferre adds.

"Yeah, we did." Courfeyrac smiles fondly at Combeferre. "Come on, let's eat. It's been a long and interesting week and I'm hungry. We'll talk over dinner."

Combeferre grabs the plates and cutlery, while Enjolras takes care of the glasses. Courfeyrac takes the pot off the stove, carefully carrying it to the table, and Enjolras eyes it, raising an eyebrow at Combeferre.

"Courfeyrac helped me make curry," Combeferre grins fondly, putting the serving spoon in and mixing one last time. "His favourite, of all of my mother's recipes. He's very proud of himself." 

"Damn right I am," Courfeyrac replies, setting the table. 

"Look at you, being domestic," Enjolras mutters, looking incredibly happy about it. "Let me help set up."

Enjolras stays for hours as they catch him up on what happened over the weekend. Courfeyrac gets to hear Combeferre's side of the story too, about how he was certain that it would be the last time he saw any of Courfeyrac's family.

"I pretended it wasn't the case," Combeferre says, with Courfeyrac's hand in his. "Especially for the twins, because they kept asking me about things we could do next time we saw each other. Sometimes, I'd manage to convince myself it wouldn't be my last time seeing them. I'm glad it's not the case any more."

"You're their favourite uncle, I kept thinking about how they'd never forgive me for showing up without you to the next family thing. You're family, as far as any of them are concerned away."

Enjolras sighs at them both. "I hope you realise how frustrating it is when you want to intervene but it's not your place to do so. Actually, I'm sure that Claire and I could have a long conversation about that."

Courfeyrac groans. "I'm pretty sure that if you started talking to her about it, she won't stop."

"Good," Enjolras grins. "I need to vent, but I'm too happy to vent at you. Have I mentioned just how happy I am that you're back together? I don't think I can say it enough."

"Claire sent us ten messages full of exclamation marks," Combeferre says as they get up to clear the table. "Each."

"Staggered across the day," Courfeyrac adds. "I called her when Combeferre invited you over. She probably would have killed me if I didn't tell her first."

Enjolras nods as he carries their plates to the kitchen and puts them into the sink. "Understandable. I would have been disappointed with anything less than being second to know."

"We know," Combeferre smiles at Enjolras, the three of them moving to the couch. "And for what it's worth, we're sorry for putting you through all of that frustration."

"I'm glad it worked out in the end," Enjolras presses his lips together, frowning. "I'm really, really glad that you've worked everything out. I'm glad the three of us can spend time together without feeling awkward. I'm glad that neither of you are sad any more."

"Aww, group hug," Courfeyrac declares, laughing as Combeferre pulls Enjolras in between them. They wrap their arms around him tightly. "We love you, Enjolras."

Enjolras relaxes against them. "Yeah. I love you too."

Courfeyrac grins at Combeferre, who gives him a fond smile in return. The three of them are pressed so close together on the couch that Courfeyrac doesn't need to move far to press a kiss to Combeferre's cheek.

"Okay." Enjolras sits up properly. "I'm going to head off." 

"You don't have to," Courfeyrac begins, until Enjolras silences him with a look.

"You're both far too polite to ask me to leave, and you've been _looking_ at each other for the past half hour."

"I'm sorry," Combeferre laughs. "I didn't realise that I'm not allowed to look at my boyfriend."

Enjolras' ears turn pink. "You know what I mean."

"I don't think we do," Courfeyrac teases.

Standing up, Enjolras shakes his head. "I am calling your sister and we are going to complain to each other _so much_." He takes his coat from its hook by the door and shrugs it on, smiling at both of them as he turns his collar up. "I'll see you at the meeting this weekend, okay? Good night."

They walk him to the door and wave as he leaves. Once he's out of sight, Courfeyrac turns to Combeferre, grinning as he shuts the door.

"You're _looking_ at me."

Combeferre smiles, leaning in to kiss him. "Yes I am."

Standing on his tiptoes, Courfeyrac wraps his arms around Combeferre's shoulders, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Combeferre makes an inquisitive noise, pulling back as Courfeyrac presses himself closer. 

"You should take me to bed," Courfeyrac murmurs.

"You really want to…?" Combeferre asks, but Courfeyrac nods before he can even finish. Combeferre smiles and lifts Courfeyrac up easily.

Laughing, Courfeyrac wraps his legs around Combeferre's waist and tightens his grip. "See? I knew you could carry me to bed."

Combeferre presses a quick kiss to his lips before walking, slow and careful so that he doesn't drop Courfeyrac. They make it as far as the bedroom before Combeferre has to steady them against the wall. Courfeyrac leans back against it, using it for leverage to wrap himself around Combeferre even tighter. He kisses Combeferre's neck, begins sucking a mark to sit just under his shirt collars and bites down until Combeferre moans, pressing Courfeyrac against the wall even harder, holding him in place.

Courfeyrac rocks his hips with what little space he has to move. Combeferre responds in kind and Courfeyrac whimpers, clinging to him, face pressed against his neck as they grind against each other.

"You're definitely sure you want to do this?" Combeferre checks, his voice husky. He clears his throat. "I need you to be sure, Courfeyrac. I don't want you to regret this later."

"I'm sure." Courfeyrac kisses Combeferre's neck, his jaw, his mouth. "I'm so sure. I want this. I want you."

Combeferre hesitates for a moment longer and Courfeyrac whines softly, but doesn't push.

"Okay," Combeferre says quietly. "Okay, I'm going to put you down on the bed."

Courfeyrac holds on as Combeferre turns them around, walking the two steps to get to their bed. Combeferre is larger than him, heavier, and Courfeyrac has always loved that. He loves the feeling of being pinned down underneath that weight and Combeferre doesn't seem to have forgotten that at all. They're both wearing far too much clothing for Courfeyrac's liking but before he can set about fixing that, Combeferre kisses his neck, leaving a mark to match his own. Courfeyrac can barely move as Combeferre's hand finds his, pressing it into the mattress beside them. There's little Courfeyrac can do but whimper as Combeferre sucks on his neck, bites the soft skin gently, then brushes his lips over Courfeyrac's collarbones. 

Kneeling up, Combeferre tugs his shirt off, then helps Courfeyrac with his. With Combeferre straddling him like this, their cocks are right against each other. Courfeyrac reaches between them, stroking over the bulge in Combeferre's pants, keeping the pressure light. With a low, impatient growl, Combeferre gets to his feet, fingers scrabbling to undo his belt, his fly, tugging his pants and underwear off while Courfeyrac does the same.

Settling back against the headboard, Courfeyrac grins. "Come here."

In an instant, Combeferre is back on the bed again, putting his glasses down on top of his bedside drawers before kneeling over Courfeyrac, kissing him. Courfeyrac pulls Combeferre down to straddle him again and smiles when Combeferre has to bend to kiss him. Their height difference always feels so much more pronounced when they're in bed with each other and Combeferre takes hold of Courfeyrac's hips, pulling him down to lie on the bed, the simple movement stealing his breath.

"I love when you do that." Courfeyrac's eyes are wide, his lips parted. He knows he's not _that_ small, but Combeferre manhandling him with ease never fails to send a sudden spike of arousal through him.

"I know." Combeferre grins, looking incredibly pleased with himself. He shifts, so he's lying on top of Courfeyrac, and rocks his hips gently.

"Fuck," Courfeyrac lets out a sharp gasp, thrusting up against Combeferre, seeking more friction. "Oh, fuck. _Fuck_."

This is nowhere near enough for either of them and they both know it, their cocks leaking against each other's stomachs. Combeferre kisses Courfeyrac's neck, sliding a hand between their bodies to wrap his finger around both their cocks.

Courfeyrac arches off the bed, wrapping himself around Combeferre. "I need you to fuck me."

"Yeah," Combeferre pants softly, pressing a firm kiss to Courfeyrac's lips before pulling away for a moment. He doesn't go far, leaning over to get his bottle of lube out of his bedside drawer. He puts it down on the mattress and hesitates. "…I don't have any condoms with me."

"I should." Courfeyrac is in the process of slowly moving his belongings back into their room, but he doesn't even have to stop and think before reaching over to his own bedside drawer and pulling out the box in there.

Combeferre laughs softly. "You planned ahead."

"No, I just… never took these with me when I moved to the other room." Courfeyrac shrugs. "I just figured I wouldn't need them anyway."

"Oh," Combeferre breathes. "So all that time I spent convincing myself that you were going to move on…"

"I don't think I had any intention of ever getting over you… I don't think either of us did, really."

Combeferre kisses him hard, taking the box from Courfeyrac's hand and putting it aside with the lube, focusing his full attention on Courfeyrac for now.

"I thought you were going to fuck me," Courfeyrac murmurs, even as he arches into Combeferre's touch, warm hands roaming over his skin.

"I will," Combeferre promises, sliding his hand over Courfeyrac's cock. He keeps the pressure light and it's maddening, far too slow for Courfeyrac's liking.

Except he knows that Combeferre isn't as patient as he's pretending to be. There's a hungry look in his eyes as he watches Courfeyrac squirm. The thing is, Courfeyrac knows him well enough to know exactly how to make Combeferre lose all pretences of patience.

"Combeferre, please," he whimpers, his head falling back to expose the column of his throat. "I need you."

With a low moan, Combeferre strokes Courfeyrac harder, kissing down his neck. He pulls away so he can pick up the lube and Courfeyrac spread his leg eagerly. Combeferre smiles at him indulgently, slicking his fingers.

Courfeyrac has fingered himself several times over the past few months, missing the feeling of Combeferre's fingers, thicker than his own and always capable of reducing Courfeyrac to an incoherent mess in no time at all. The first gentle push of Combeferre's index has Courfeyrac's breath catching in his throat.

"Okay?" Combeferre asks, kissing along Courfeyrac's jaw and waiting for him to nod before continuing.

Combeferre is gentle with him, but just enough that neither of them lose their patience. Soon enough, he has three fingers in Courfeyrac, crooked just right to make Courfeyrac moan loudly. Courfeyrac has his eyes shut, feet flat against the mattress as he bucks to meet Combeferre's fingers.

"Please," he sobs and Combeferre swears roughly, pulling his fingers out and tearing a condom wrapper open. He slicks himself and positions himself, the head of his cock teasing Courfeyrac for a moment before pushing in, little by little. By the time he's bottomed out, Courfeyrac's arms and legs are wrapped around him tightly. They're both still for a long moment, panting against each other's ears, until Combeferre pulls back and thrusts. 

He holds himself up, hands on either side of Courfeyrac's head, and rocks his hips. They hold each other's gaze as Courfeyrac's hips jerk in return and he has no illusions that either of them will last for long. Not with the way Combeferre's thrusts are accompanied with soft, breathless gasps, not with the way Courfeyrac's stomach is already a mess of precome.

Shifting his weight onto one hand, Combeferre uses the other to stroke Courfeyrac in rhythm to their thrusts. Courfeyrac soon comes with a loud moan, fingers digging into the sheets and Combeferre follows moments later, holding himself up over Courfeyrac to avoid collapsing on top of him. Courfeyrac pulls him down anyway, into a lingering kiss that they only break so that Combeferre can get up to throw his condom out, returning with a wet towel to wipe Courfeyrac clean.

They get under the covers, wrapping their arms around each other and Courfeyrac can't stop smiling. Not that he really minds, because Combeferre can't either.

"I love you," Courfeyrac murmurs, kissing Combeferre's shoulder. "Thank you for waiting."

"You don't need to thank me," Combeferre replies, lying on his side and kissing Courfeyrac's forehead. "You know that."

"Well, thank you anyway," Courfeyrac says. "…It was totally worth the wait though."

Laughing softly, Combeferre pulls Courfeyrac closer. "Yes, it was. I love you, Courfeyrac. Go to sleep, don't pretend I can't see you yawning."

Courfeyrac yawns again. "Not my fault you're so good in bed that I'm all worn out."

Combeferre snorts, shaking his head fondly. He strokes his fingers through Courfeyrac's hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp, gently lulling Courfeyrac to sleep. The last thing Courfeyrac remembers before falling asleep is the feeling of Combeferre pressing a kiss into his hair.

:·:

"You're sure about this?" Combeferre asks, looking down at their joined hands as they walk to the Musain that weekend for their regular meeting with the rest of their friends.

"Absolutely sure," Courfeyrac replies, nodding. He doesn't want to make a big deal out of the fact that he and Combeferre are back together, as much as it _is_ a big deal to him. He doesn't really want to distract everyone else away from more important matters, so he's decided that holding hands with Combeferre is a nice, understated way of making it clear.

"Do you remember when we started dating?" Combeferre asks with a fond smile. "We wanted to tell _everyone_ because we were so excited about it. I'm pretty sure we were sickening."

"Sickeningly adorable, yeah." Courfeyrac grins, squeezing Combeferre's hand. "But now it feels less like a huge, amazing thing and more like… I don't know. It feels like going back to how things should be."

Combeferre's smile grows. "That's true. I'm glad that things are back to how they were."

Standing on his tiptoes, Courfeyrac kisses Combeferre's cheek. "Me too. Ready?"

They walk inside together, nodding in greeting, ordering their drinks before making their way upstairs. They immediately freeze in their tracks when they reach the top of the stairs, because the entire room has been decked out with balloons and streamers and there's a large hand-made banner on the back wall that reads, _THANK FUCK_.

Enjolras is standing there with the rest of their friends, grinning at them.

"Let me guess," Courfeyrac says. "This was Claire's idea."

"And mine," Enjolras replies. "I was serious about calling her to complain."

"Well." Combeferre looks around at their friends. "So much for subtlety."

Enjolras' grin falters, and Combeferre hastily shakes his head. 

"Not that I mind. Definitely not. Trust me, I'm more than happy to shout from the rooftops that we're back together. I would have been equally happy not to mention it at all. I'm just… happy."

Courfeyrac beams. "Me too."

"Well, believe us," Joly speaks up. "We're all _really relieved_ because you being broken up was weird. Really weird. Don't do that again, okay?"

Courfeyrac laughs quietly, leaning into Combeferre's side. "Trust me, we don't intend to."

"Sit down," Jehan says, ushering them both to the nearest table. "I want to hear the story behind everything." 

The rest of their friends gather around them, and Combeferre clears his throat, recounting his side of the story. Courfeyrac watches him, not letting go of Combeferre’s hand, even when he raises them to gesture as he speaks. Enjolras sits down on his other side, placing a hand on his shoulder with a warm smile.

Courfeyrac returns it, stroking his thumb across the back of Combeferre's hand. Everything feels right with the world once again and Courfeyrac decides that if his friends are celebrating the fact that he and Combeferre are back together, then he might as well sit back and enjoy it as much as he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to [Anna](http://annaroserae.tumblr.com/) for being the reason this fic is finished at all and for being a totally ace editor. Thank you to floofbucket for the awesome fanmix! And thank you for reading!


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